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<title>war is just a drug made for fools. by leithvoid</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24857311">war is just a drug made for fools.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/leithvoid/pseuds/leithvoid'>leithvoid</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>1917 (Movie 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Hallucinations, Infection, not editied</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:34:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>659</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24857311</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/leithvoid/pseuds/leithvoid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After Will arrives at the 2nd.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>2nd devons writing challenges</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>war is just a drug made for fools.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prompts: The Fall of Icarus &amp; "Schofield looks up, he’s briefly lost sight of Blake round the next bend. He moves to catch up. He hears voices."</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It had been several weeks since Schofield had delivered the army command letter to Colonel Mackenzie who was in charge of the 2nd Devon’s. Several weeks since he’d saved under 1,600 men, found a baby in the middle of a burning town,  sat with the sun beating down on his skin and killed a soldier who was younger than Blake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had been several weeks since Blake died in his arms in a field with a barn, burning behind him and the smell of burning wood in the air. Sometimes, when there was a gust of wind he could still smell it. The medic’s kept telling him there was no fire when he’d ask about it, a slight panic in his voice as he tried to sit up and look around him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the time since his arrival at the 2nd, Schofield had developed an infection in his hand causing him to have a high temperature and fever. They wanted to send him home, back to his family ― but he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave now, not after what he’d lost. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He needed to keep going, so he’s figured out how to get away from the medic tent in the night and wandered into the trenches that lined France. As he struggled to walk, hand wrapped in a bandage and holding it to his stomach, he stumbled through the tranches.  He bumped into a man, he apologized ‘no problem, mate.’ The voice stopped him in his tracks. Blake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Schofield looked behind him to the soldier, it wasn’t Blake. His hair was blond and his eyes were dark. Blake was dead. He needed to think about it for a moment, he needed to get his bearings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pressed on, moving through the trenches where he would do more good than if he were to go home. A young soldier walked past him, Schofield grabbed his arm, the man looked like Blake. Light brown hair, blue eyes, round face. “Blake?” The soldier shook his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He continued, trying to remember that Blake was dead. But as his fever rose and the infection spread through his body with his adrenaline he became delirious. He wasn’t able to tell reality and fantasy apart. He followed a soldier in front of him who had the same shoulders as Blake, broad but a little shorter than his. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mind created his vision, Schofield thought that he was back in the trenches with Blake before they went through No Man’s Land. He followed Blake trying to reason with him, under his breath. The soldier went around a corner and Schofield lost view of him, he tried to move faster, his vision distorted and body no longer listening to all of his brains commands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could hear Blake, telling Schofield that he wouldn’t be able to understand why he needed to go save his brother. It was a fight, but not really. Schofield just wanted to save him, he wanted to get Blake to his brother safely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Schofield moved faster trying to catch up with Blake, he needed to make him listen. He needed to understand that this needed to be done with care. He was almost at the corner, he was so close to the sun. His vision grows dark around the edges and tunnels, he trips over something, and Schofield collapse to the ground of the muddy trench.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The light was golden around him, warm and soft. It felt nice on his pale, sick skin. He looked around, but there wasn’t anything to see. It was a never-ending soft golden sky, he looked down to see what he was standing on. But there was nothing. He noticed how pristine his uniform looked, how he wasn’t injured anymore. He felt rejuvenated, even a little excited </span>
  </em>
  <span>―</span>
  <em>
    <span> how he felt before he was sent into the Great War.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Good to see you again, mate.” William looked over to the voice, a smile growing on his face. Blake.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p>
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